DISCLAIMER: I don't own Labyrinth or any of the characters associated with the film. They are the property of the Jim Henson Company. I also don't own 'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen. It's owned by some genius publishing house that had the guts to publish a fantastic book about fantastic women in 1813. I do own all other characters in the story.

AN: Thank you again to all my reviewers. My ego is enormous, I can't contain it in my apartment any longer…I better buy a mansion, post haste. Also, thanks to everyone who wished I would get better. I appreciate it. If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride (does anyone get that? I've never really gotten it…I mean, if I were a beggar I think I'd be more interested in food…a more appropriate little proverb might be: If wishes were bread, then beggars would be obese.) And here it is, my new shiny chapter, for several reasons: a) I'm so sick, even NyQuil gave up on me; b) I can't wait until tomorrow morning, but now it's technically tomorrow morning anyway, so who cares? c) Because I live my sad little life for reviews.

Jareth had returned to reading his astrophysics textbook following dinner. After Sarah had washed up, she joined Jareth on the couch, flicking the television on briefly. The news wailed away at her, and she found her self growing depressed. Why was there always so much hate in the world? She was about to turn it off when she noticed that Jareth had put his book down to watch. His head was titled slightly, and he was concentrating on the screen with uninterrupted intensity. Sarah watched him, realizing that he had likely never seen a television before. She flipped the channel, still watching Jareth. He flinched, not expecting the channel change. He then turned to Sarah in amazement. She was sporting a sideways grin at his reactions. He turned his eyes to the remote control in her hand. Sarah expected him to become angry with her for flipping the channel purely out of her own curiosity at his reaction, but instead found him reaching out to take the remote from her.

He snatched it from her hand deftly and peered at it. He then began pushing buttons randomly to see what madness would ensue. It was bound to happen; he'd pushed a combination that was not a channel. A loud static humming came through the speakers and the screen showed a mass of black and white lines, overlapping energetically. He cringed visibly at the unpleasant sound. Sarah shook her head, and sought to take the control from him.

"Snow," she said.

"Snow?"

"Snow. That's not a channel," she explained, while shutting off the television.

"And, as a result you get snow."

She shrugged, as though it were self-explanatory. Jareth stared at her.

"I have never seen snow like that before."

"Of course you haven't," she replied, offering no further explanation.

Sarah got up and dug through her backpack, snatching up a worn paperback book. She returned to the couch and snuggled up in the corner opposite Jareth. He had already gone back to reading his textbook, obsessed with the scientific explanation for the placement of stars. He glanced over the top of his book to read the title of the book Sarah was currently devouring.

"Pride and Prejudice," he said, with interest.

Sarah looked up from her book, Jareth's voice shaking the silence that had grown around them.

She closed the book, her finger on the page she was reading, and looked at the cover.

"Oh, I'm reading it for a class," she said, absently.

"What is the story in this book?" he asked, with interest.

"Well, it's set in Regency era England," she started to explain. "The story centers on a family living in a rural area. Their lives take a turn for the better when a wealthy aristocrat moves into the area and falls in love with their eldest daughter."

Sarah paused, realizing that she was leaving important information out.

"There are five daughters in the family," she explained. "With little chance of finding a good husband because of their combined lack of dowry and social status."

Jareth raised his eyebrows. Social status and love blowing it all to hell: this story was beginning to sound very familiar.

"And?" he asked. "I hope that's not all the story is about. It would be a very dull read."

Sarah nodded.

"No, it's not," she said thoughtfully. "The real meat of the story focuses on the second eldest daughter, Elizabeth. She's intelligent and has an easy sense of humour; she's her father's favourite for these reasons."

Jareth looked at her expectantly. Sarah considered it an invitation to talk about her favourite book.

"Well, Bingley's friend – oh, Bingley is the man that falls in love with Lizzie's sister – anyway, as I was saying, Bingley's friend Darcy finds himself attracted to Elizabeth. He knows the relationship would be looked down upon, he knows that he should just walk away and marry a nice, rich girl, but he finds that he can't forget Elizabeth."

Jareth raised one eyebrow, playfully; a small smirk on his lips. A very familiar story. Sarah didn't see his expression; she was too busy becoming lost in her own explanation, the love she bore for the story was evident.

"But here's the crux: Elizabeth has been fed this slanderous story about Darcy, so she thinks the worst of him without really knowing him at all. She has a prejudice against him from the start, while he has to contend with his pride. Hence, the title of the book."

Jareth waited for more, he was interested in the end of this tale.

"Well, are these two vices ever corrected?" he asked.

Sarah tossed her head from side to side in thought.

"Yes and no," she said. "He proposes to her in the worst way possible."

Too familiar.

"And, she obviously says no since she has this bad opinion of him based on what she's heard. He becomes angry with her refusal and the reasoning behind it, she finds out that she was wrong about him, and they don't see each other for a long while. Elizabeth figures she's blown it."

She stopped, refusing to tell anymore of the story to him. Jareth was regarding her with an odd expression. He then looked at her with a face that suggested that she should go on. She shook her head in refusal.

"No way, Jareth," she said, sticking her nose back in the book. "You'll have to read it and find out how it ends all by yourself."

Jareth frowned, disappointed. He really wanted to know how the story ended, so much so that he was tempted to take the book from her and hold it out of her reach just so he could read it. Her expression stopped him; she was lost in the story, her lips parted in anticipation as she read. He could tell by the condition of the book that she had read it many times. He knew that it was not necessary for her to read it now to be able to complete whatever assignment she had revolving around the story for school. He watched her reading for several minutes, enjoying her delight. Then, he returned to his stars.

As Sarah was speaking about Pride and Prejudice, she had begun to realize that there were elements of her own life story in the plot. Had she not been prejudiced towards Jareth because of the play? Had he not had a pride that was rightfully his? Had he not proposed to her in all the wrong ways? Was he not in love with someone below his station? She shook her head slightly, and refused to think on the subject any further lest she draw any premature conclusions about Jareth's presence here. She still couldn't bring herself to ask him why he was here. To ask him if he was going to stay here, solid and lasting, or if he was going to disappear like one of his crystals, insubstantial and dreamy.

She was afraid of asking for several reasons. First off, he could tell her that this was a temporary arrangement, just another game to try and trap her. She couldn't afford to open her heart to him at this point, precisely because of that possible answer. Or, non-answer. He might just keep playing his game without giving her any warning. He was a Faerie after all, or at least he had been a Faerie. Secondly, he could tell her that he was indeed staying. And that answer scared her more than anything else he could tell her. It meant that he had given up so much for her, it meant that she should be grateful for his sacrifices. It meant that he could grow tired of her, like mortal men were wont to do, and move on to someone else. It meant that she could lose him to death. But worst of all, it meant she was free to love him.

Sarah's stomach dropped at the thought. Loving Jareth would be terrifying. Love, in general, leads to trust; and trust was not something Sarah had a good grasp on at the moment. What if she trusted him with her heart, and he broke it? What then? Even if he had become human for her, it didn't mean that he would always love her. Nothing was set in stone in life. What if he realized that mortality meant that he had such little time on Earth, and that he should be free and roam the world without her? She chewed on her bottom lip anxiously.

Jareth noticed Sarah sitting in the corner, staring over top of her book at the wall now. He frowned slightly. She was lost in thought, and it did not appear to be a thought that brought her any happiness. He felt the nervous air she was giving off, and reached to touch her with his hand. She started, and recoiled at his hand. He withdrew it quickly, wondering what he'd done to cause this transformation in attitude. She'd finally been relaxing around him.

She looked at him, anxiety and nervousness evident in her eyes. She jumped off the couch swiftly, and managed a forced smile.

"Are you alright, Sarah?" Jareth asked, unmoving.

"Yeah," she said nodding. "I'm just…tired. I'm going to go to bed."

"Alright," he said quietly, not believing a word she said. "Good night, Sarah."

"Good night, Jareth."

She turned around, a tiny touch of her earlier playfulness in her expression.

"Remember," she said, sternly. "Shopping tomorrow!"

"Of course, I am ecstatic," Jareth replied, sarcastically.

As Sarah disappeared around the corner, Jareth noticed that she had left her book on the table. His fingers itched to pick it up, and he couldn't help himself.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."

And, how.

ADDITIONAL AN: Semantics. What a foolish girl I am. I just realized that my title imparts the wrong information... "Til Death Do We Part" implies that they will be parted until death, which would make for a great angsty story, but not exactly what I was going for here. So, I have changed the title to "Til Death Do Us Part", which implies what I had intended to imply. I hope I have not caused anyone pain, and if I have I hope it is of short duration. I am a purist, after all, and I do try so very hard to be grammatically correct. If I were to leave it, I would tear my hair out every time I post.

Thanks very much. Toodles for now, my darlings.

D.